They Can't Go Naked
by Unique
Summary: Inspired by online commentary about the wardrobe changes in Off the Grid. The life of a SGC costumer.


Daniel waited to make his way backstage after the play.

"Daniel! Sam!" called Cassandra. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"You were wonderful up there, Cassie." Daniel hugged his niece thinking privately that she had never looked as beautiful as she did now with her face rosy with the afterglow of a successful performance.

"Daniel's right," said Sam, giving her another hug. "Janet would be so proud of you."

Both women paused then tightened their hug. Daniel silently backed away from the little reunion to give the two a moment of privacy. He spotted the director standing off to the side watching her crew.

"Congratulations, you must be very proud of them."

"I am," she said, mopping sweat off of her brow. "They all worked very hard."

"I was particularly impressed with the accuracy of your costumes. You must be a real stickler for details."

"Not at all." She waved for a passing girl to join them. "This is Amber. She was in charge of costuming."

"Pleased to meet you. I was just telling Mrs. Scott that I'm surprised how accurate your work is."

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "I've had a lot of practice the last four years. Plus, I'm a history major so the period pieces aren't really that hard for me."

"You have a lot of talent."

"I just hope I can get a job somewhere. My mom wants me to move back to Colorado Springs but there just isn't anywhere for a costumer to work."

"You're from Colorado?" asked Daniel, standing straighter. "Do you by any chance have ties to the military?"

"Of course. Both of my parents were in the Air Force."

"That's convenient," he said drawing out each word. She looked at him strange but shrugged.

"Not really. Most military towns are like that."

"Look, Amber, could you stay right here? I need to go make a phone call." He wandered off towards the hall before she could reply.

"General," he said into his cell phone. "I think I've found a solution to the wardrobe fiasco on P3X-754."

"Was that the one where Captain Satterfield wore the same robes as the chieftain's daughter?"

"That would be the one."

"I'm listening."

TWO YEARS LATER…

"Think space pirates, they say." She slammed her scissors on the table.

"Would some cosplay outfits help, he asked." She slammed her tape measurer on the table. "And no, I don't want to know why Felger knows about cosplaying."

"And did I mention that they want all of this by tomorrow?" A lump of leather joined the pile on the table.

"Calm down, Amber," said Ben trying to calm his boss. "You know they can't always help the scheduling."

"I didn't ask for this," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I had no intention of staying in Colorado. I was going to go out to Hollywood to work in the movies or maybe to Vancouver or Wilmington to work in television. Now look at me. I'm making a cape out of alien leather for an astrophysicist."

"It's not that bad. We've already made outfits like these for three of the team. With a few modifications, we can have whole new outfits."

"It won't work. They're gone." She laid her head on the table so her voice was muffled in the leather. "It's like magic. As soon as they step through the wormhole, poof, all of our hard work is destroyed."

"That's not true." She raised her head and stared at him.

"You're new. You don't know," she said. "We spent almost two months outfitting SG-15. They came back two days later with every single piece of clothing ripped to shreds and smelling of bat dung. The whole lot had to be declared hazardous waste."

"Oh." Ben glanced at the door, obviously reevaluating his employment plans. They both jumped when there was a knock followed immediately by the door opening.

"Hey," said Dr. Jackson as he poked his head through the space and glanced at each of them. Amber wondered if perhaps, he had expected them to throw things at him.

"Dr. Jackson!" she said, forcing herself to smile. "What brings you up here?"

"I heard you were having a bad day. I thought you might like a break, say lunch in the commissary?"

"Who told you I was having a bad day?" She turned and glared at her coworkers. Laura waved guiltily from her table by the phone then lowered her head and pretended to be very involved in the pants pattern she was cutting. Amber looked at Dr. Jackson, who was either grimacing or grinning at her, then at the lump of cape-to-be. "Fine. I'll have lunch with you."

"Great," he said then said nothing more as they walked to commissary, decided on their food, then proceeded to sit across from each other picking at their entrées.

"So," she said finally to break the awkward silence, "do you do this for everyone?"

His head jerked up and he stared at her. "What?"

"This," she said pointing down at her plate. "Lunch. Trying to cheer me up. Are you head of the civilians pep squad or something?"

"Oh." He ducked his head, and then smiled sheepishly. "No. I just like to keep an eye on the people that I bring into the program, when I can."

"So it's not my dashing good looks?" she asked with a smile.

"Darn. You caught me."

"I knew it!"

"Really," He paused and looked a bit embarrassed. "I just think it's important to touch base. I don't want to forget that there are all of you here on Earth supporting us. I don't want you to forget that you save our lives, too."

"Wow. That's kind of deep." He shrugged and looked a bit sad for a moment.

"So, how are things at home?"

"Kelly's good. Jared has colic so neither one of us have been getting any sleep. Then with things being so hectic here, I guess it's no wonder I'm at my wits end."

"When did she have the baby?"

"He's a month old now." She smiled again, thinking about her son and how big he was getting.

"I didn't know," said Dr. Jackson, quietly. "I would have gotten you something."

"It's OK. I think you were offworld at the time."

"Well, this calls for a celebration." He nodded decisively. "I'm going to take you to Roxanne's. We can have coffee and their sinful Deluxe Chocolate Cake."

"I'd love to but I really need to get back to work. Thanks for cheering me up, though."

"Oh! I almost forgot. Our mission has been pushed back a couple of days. We need a bit more intel first."

"We still have three other teams to get ready."

"No you don't," he argued stubbornly. "The General has grounded all teams until we can ensure that no one else is at risk of becoming addicted to this space corn."

"OK. OK." She raised her hands in surrender. "I'll go quietly."

Suddenly, she realized that this man actually had to wear the crazy outfits her and her colleagues had been creating. Somehow she had never crossed from the abstract clothing designs to the mental image of people actually parading around the universe in these getups. She snickered to herself as she followed him out of the commissary. Space pirates, indeed.


End file.
